


Deductions

by killerweasel



Series: Last Person You'd Expect [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 06:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerweasel/pseuds/killerweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderson discovers an unexpected guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deductions

Title: Deductions  
Fandom: _Sherlock_  
Characters: Anderson, Sherlock Holmes  
Word Count: 775  
Rating: PG  
A/N: AU after _The Reichenbach Fall_  
Warnings: n/a  
Summary: Anderson discovers an unexpected guest.

I’d just come home from an exhausting case. I kicked my shoes off as I shrugged out of my coat. I’d made it to the hallway when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I paused and went back the way I came. Rubbing my temple, I stared at the sulking form on my sofa for a moment.

It had been over a year since I’d seen him last. He looked thinner than I remembered. He also had a rather nasty-looking black eye. With a sigh, I went into the kitchen. I grabbed a bag of frozen peas and a towel. Wrapping the peas in the towel, I came back over to the couch and held them out to my guest. “You should put this on your face. It’ll help with the swelling.”

The only reply I got was a grunt, which I decided was a ‘thank you’. I sat on the sofa by his feet. “I’m going to do some deducting. I know you’ll correct me if I’m wrong.”

Sherlock snorted.

I wasn’t sure if the thought of me doing deductions were amusing or if he knew he’d have to correct me. I cleared my throat. “You saw John tonight. You informed him you weren’t really dead and then explained why you’d done what you did. He let you finish before yelling and cursing. You weren’t expecting him to lash out and the punch caught you completely by surprise. Then he told you to leave so he could think.”

Sherlock shifted around on the sofa, kicking me in the hip in the process. I ignored it. “You didn’t go see Lestrade because you assumed he’d do the same thing. You came here because the only other option would be to go see Mycroft and you’d much rather be with someone who you don’t like than deal with him. Did I leave anything out?”

“I saw Mrs. Hudson before John came home. She gave me a hug before telling me I was never allowed to do something like that again.” He sat up, holding the peas against his face. “I’ll leave if you want me to, Anderson.”

“Nah.” I glanced at him. “You look like hell, Sherlock.”

“I...” I don’t know which of us was more surprised that he didn’t have the words to continue. He looked completely and utterly lost.

Leaning over, I nudged him with my shoulder. “Do you remember what I did that originally earned the full brunt of your wrath or have you deleted that?” Judging by the look on his face, it had been removed from his memory. “It was the Carlson murder. Four years before you met John, you were asked to consult on a case. Somehow, I solved it before you did. You weren’t happy, but I think you were just going to let it go. Then someone, and to this day I can’t remember who it was, said ‘looks like Anderson’s the real genius around here’. Then everyone laughed.”

Sherlock frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It means that I know why you’re such a dick to me all the time, even if you don’t.” I chuckled softly. “You can stay as long as you need to. I don’t have my boys again for a couple of weeks.” Getting to my feet, I smothered a yawn with my hand. “I’m going to turn in. There’s food in the kitchen. You should eat something.”

“I thought I was going to die in Hong Kong.” His voice was so soft I had to strain my ears to hear it. “You saved my life.” I turned to see him tugging his shirt free of his trousers. He lifted it up, revealing a puckered scar that ran from just above his hip towards his chest. There was a knot of healed flesh on the curve of his rib.

“When I didn’t hear from you for almost two months, I thought you’d died.” I crouched down in front of Sherlock to get a better look. When he had been shot, the bullet had slid along his skin until it caught him in the rib. He’d had to dig it out with his fingers. The memory of how he’d sounded that night still haunted my dreams.

He let the shirt slip back down, covering the scar. “Where’s your mobile? I want to tell John where I am. I know he’ll worry.”

“It’s in my jacket pocket.” I stood up and winced when my knees popped. “Goodnight, Sherlock.”

“By the way, Anderson, that facial hair looks awful.”

I made a rude gesture in his direction before walking away.


End file.
